


Betrayed and Broken

by desertshrub (Kid_Oddity)



Series: GW2 Short Stories [5]
Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Cadeyrn shows up for two seconds, Gen, Gore, Heavy Angst, Nightmare Court (Guild Wars), Torture, and he loves Tegwen, overall Dregris is awful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 19:24:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18350138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kid_Oddity/pseuds/desertshrub
Summary: I should write the full version of this eventually while also editing it. One day I will.





	Betrayed and Broken

**Author's Note:**

> I should write the full version of this eventually while also editing it. One day I will.

“Eorlos!” Tegwen whispers. “That’s a Nightmare camp. We can’t go in there.”

He huffs. “You don’t have to, but I am. I want answers.” He starts walking to it until he’s grabbed back.

“You have your answer! You know what Caithe said! Once you become Nightmare, you can’t ever go back. He’s lost, Eorlos. We can’t get him back.” Scoffing, he shakes her off as he spots two Nightmare Courtiers walking across the bridge that connects near their camp.

“You can’t stop me.” He sneaks closer to the bridge and gets to cover. Tegwen follows close behind him, begging him to change his mind, but he won’t.

“Eorlos, I know Dregris means so much to you, and he means everything to me too, but we can’t–” He covers her mouth to shut her up as the Courtiers walk near. He lunges forward. He knocks out one of them with the hilt of his dagger against their head. Before he could get to the other, there’s a shrill sound of magic followed by a groan. He turns to see they’re unconscious on the ground.

“Eorlos! You almost got yourself killed!” Tegwen shouts as she stands from their hiding spot.

“What? I was perfectly fine.” He shrugs and begins to undress them.

“Because of me! What was that for? What are you even doing?”

“I need a disguise. Are you coming or not?”

She sighs. “Fine, okay. Once we see Dregris, we’re turning right back around, understand?”

“Yes, yes, whatever you say, Teggy,” he tosses her the leaf pile of clothing and strips the other one, barely listening. “Put it on.” When they dress in the Nightmare attire, Tegwen turns up her nose at him as they gawk at one another.

“How do I look?” he asks.

“You look terrible, and not in the Nightmare way. What about me?”

“Same to you. You need to look nastier. Here.” He kneels down and scoops up mud, wiping it on her face with a chuckle. Tegwen scowls and tries rubbing it off.

“Thanks. Now I’ll have to wash.”

“Come on, let’s go.” Eorlos creeps across the bridge and over to the camp with Tegwen close behind. “Don’t say a word. I’ll handle the talking, alright?” She nods in response. Eorlos puffs his chest out to fake confidence and strides over to the entrance. This has to work.

“Wait a second,” a Courtier standing guard stops them. “You reek like Dreamers.”

“We’re new,” Tegwen squeaks. Eorlos inwardly groans.

“Yes,” he says, side eyeing her. “We’re new.”

“Pfft, new, huh? Alright, go in.”

They march in, visibly shocked at the amount of Nightmare sylvari around. Eorlos searches for a sight of his brother, but it’s hard to tell with all the other darkly colored sylvari around. It’s so cramped and loud. It’s like a party in here. What are they planning?

“Dregris!” someone yells. Eorlos perks up. Holding onto Tegwen’s hand, he slinks past the many people to find the person who said that. When they get out of the crowd, there he finds a red colored sylvari with Dregris towering over them. Eorlos inches closer to hear their conversation.

“You’re certain that everything will go as planned?”

“Relax, Cadeyrn,” Dregris sneers. “You have no faith in me. Of course everything is going to go well.” His eyes flicker over to where Eorlos and Tegwen are standing. “In fact, everything is going perfectly.” He starts to turn around. “Oh! And Cadeyrn, address me as _Count_ Dregris from now on. I’m not like the disposable ones anymore.” He walks off into a room separated from the main area.

“Okay!” Tegwen says, trying to pull Eorlos but he doesn’t budge. “We saw him, we go. Remember?”

“He knows we’re here.”

“Yes, and that’s a perfect reason to leave!”

“I still need answers.” Eorlos heads after him into the room, pulling her along with him.

“What answers!? Eorlos–!”

“Shh!” They stand still and gaze into the dark and foreboding room, adjusting their eyes to the dimness. There’s no sign of Dregris, or anyone. It’s… nothing. There’s nothing. But he went in here!

“Eorlos, please…” Tegwen whines, her grip tight around his hand. He walks in further, trying to make out his brother. In seconds, Tegwen screams and gets snatched away. Hands grab at him, holding him tight against his will.

“Get off of me!!”

Clapping and cackling rings through the room. “Eorlos, you fell for such a dumb trap. You’re so stupid, it’s adorable!” A light shines now; it’s still dim but he can see Tegwen held by two Courtiers, and it’s the same for Eorlos. Dregris is smirking at him, obviously amused by their situation.

“Dregris, tell them to let us go!”

“Aw, but you’d run away and tell the Firstborn again. I don’t need that sort of mess on my hands.” He turns away from Eorlos and strokes Tegwen’s cheek. “My love, you’d be so perfect here if you just try.”

“Don’t you dare hurt her!” Eorlos shouts. Dregris groans, turning towards him again.

“Why would I even do that? I wouldn’t hurt a single leaf on her head… unlike you. You’re a different story, brother.” A wicked grin forms on his face. “I can’t wait to see how it turns out. Heh, let him go.”

The Courtiers release him. Dregris grabs him by the throat and effectively lifts him to his height. With ragged gasps, Eorlos squirms and claws at his hand holding him up.

“Dregris, stop it! Don’t do this!” Tegwen pleads.

“Sorry, darling. Close your eyes if you have to, but this is something I wanted to do for a long time.”

Eorlos suddenly drops with force, the ground unforgiving as he lands. A jab kicks him on his side. Another kick lands on the same spot. Then a kick to the face, to his leg, to his stomach. Eorlos whimpers at the blunt pain.

“Give me that,” Dregris demands. Eorlos rolls over to see what he’s doing. Dregris snatches a whip from a Courtier and stalks back over to Eorlos with a wild look in his eyes.

“What are you doing…?”

Dregris doesn’t answer. He just smiles.

The whip thrashes against him, and it stings. It comes back again, and it burns. His clothes get stripped off. The crack of the whip echoes with every lash. Eorlos cries. _It hurts_ ; his back, his legs, his arms. It hurts everywhere. He starts crawling away, but he’s flipped over and is met with Dregris’ terrifying gaze.

“What happens if I scratch up your pretty little face?” he hisses, a dagger twirling in his hand. Dregris looks at the weapon then back to Eorlos, fiercely slashing it over his face. Eorlos yelps as a new sting glides over his nose and down his cheek. Something wet trickles down his face. It’s blood… his blood.

Dregris touches where he cut, the blood staining his fingers. “You bleed wonderfully.” Eorlos shudders as he watches him lick it off his fingers, a sick smirk formed on his face. Walking away, Dregris’ eyes flash a dark green. Skeletal hands suddenly spring up and grabs Eorlos’ arms. He struggles against them, but they’re strong. He can’t get out.

“Now,” Dregris says. “Count with me, brother. I’m sure you’re not stupid enough to not know how to count.” Eorlos tries to look at him; Dregris takes his left foot while the dagger dances close to it. Its sharp metal meets his in between his toes. Eorlos’ breath hitches. He realizes his plan and tries to fight his foot away from him.

“One little toe…” Dregris drawls. Eorlos screams at the sudden agonizing pain shooting from his foot. “Two little toes.” He screams louder. His foot throbs as each toe slices clean off. Dregris ignores Tegwen’s pleads, continuing to count each toe that comes off.

“How many toes, brother?” Dregris asks. Eorlos whines in response. “How. Many. Toes.” He squeezes his foot, the throbbing more intense. Eorlos whimpers. He’s so dizzy.

“F-five…”

“Good boy.” He drops his left foot and grabs the other one, threatening the dagger close.

“No.. please… don’t.”

“Six.”

Tears stream down his face as the splitting pain shoots through his legs.

“Seven.”

_His vision blurs._

“Eight.”

_His screams fall quiet._

“Nine.”

_He sobs._

“Say it brother, how many toes will this be?”

“Ten…” He wails as it’s cut off. His feet pound with torment. He can’t feel anything else and the only sound he hears is his brother’s cackling.


End file.
